Dire Shenanigans (The Making of a Man Series, Book 2) Page 19

  "The old bastard! What a fellow he was! One hundred and forty thousand! Too much to simply whistle down the wind, Mr Peckham, tempting though it might be to throw it away. So, I must take a wife to my bosom, and the sooner the better – one must, after all, allow for the possibility of daughters!”

  Peckham steepled his fingers and frowned at the indelicacy of the whole business.

  “I mentioned that to Sir Godby, Sir Richard. He laughed and said that it made the whole business into a lottery, and that you must hope to draw a winning ticket!”

  "I repeat my earlier comment, sir, though not without admiration."

  Dick mused a few seconds, still tempted to announce he was his own man and Sir Godby should put his one hundred and forty thousand in an unusual place. It was too much - he could not refuse a safe income of nearly six thousands a year, the wages of one hundred and twenty farm labourers.

  “I should, I suppose, write a letter to Miss Parsons in Washington, for I may not return to America myself for some considerable time.”

  “You will be too busy in England, Sir Richard?”

  “You misunderstand me, Mr Peckham. In this instance ‘may’ refers to the intent of the Federal government to clap me in irons should I stray into their jurisdiction. Details must not be divulged, sir, but I was on a commission for Her Majesty’s Government which became unfortunately public.”

  “Ah… a matter wholly outside of the purview of a country attorney, Sir Richard. One presumes that Miss Parsons will wish to cross the Atlantic at your call, Sir Richard?”

  “A good question, Mr Peckham, and one that I am not entirely certain I can answer.”

  He did not mention to the lawyer that he was not at all certain what answer he wanted.

  Miss Parsons was out of Washington when the letter reached her office, having found the need to spend time in Chicago where she had matters to discuss with a number of local small businessmen.

  “Mrs Boswell’s Tonics, Mr Kramer; the English medicines, well regarded for the relief they bring to the unfortunate. Have you any notion of their content?”

  Kramer was a man of late middle age and had been in the dispensing chemist’s trade for many years, recommended to her for wanting to sell his little business.

  “Yes, Miss Parsons, following your letter and the commission it contained, I obtained a pint bottle of the mixture and subjected it to simple analysis. The greatest component is alcohol, probably in a pure form; then opium; there seems to be a source of iron and as well, some flavouring agent similar to sage and a colouring dye to render the contents a pleasing shade of brown and perhaps a little of water. The effect will surely be to reduce pain in the suffering – a pint of this and no man will be capable of feeling any anguish at all!”

  “I believe the intent is that a medicinal dose of a tablespoonful or two should be taken each day.”

  “A bottle a week, ma’am? Say half a gill a day in two doses, morning and evening… it would dull pain to an acceptable level, that I have no doubt. But there would be a degree of addiction, I fear, ma’am."

  "Would that be compensated for by the relief obtained, Mr Kramer?"

  "For some unfortunates, undoubtedly, Miss Parsons. Even so, ma'am, there is an ethical question..."

  "Was we ethical beings, sir, there would be no war!"

  Kramer had seen too many of the mutilated of war to argue that point; he dispensed laudanum in its various forms to two score and more of veterans already.

  "I have tasted the product, Mr Kramer, and discover it to have a bitterness that is somewhat disconcerting. Could that be ameliorated?"

  "A modicum of molasses or Demerara sugar would suffice to achieve that. Miss Parsons."

  "Will you do that for me, sir? A mixture of our own, differing in colour - a rich gold would have much in its favour - and sweetness, to be sold as 'The Veteran's Friend and Comforter' and placed on the billboards at the railroad as 'the American remedy, lately devised to aid our Brave Boys in their hour of need'."

  "And my shop, Miss Parsons?"

  "To be bought, at a price agreed between us, by Parsons and Burke. You to be salaried as Chemist and Controller in our factories, the first of which is to be complete in Chicago in the next weeks."

  "Agreed, ma'am. There is no value to me in keeping my independence and leaving my shop after me - both of my sons went to the war and neither will return."

  Pointless to commiserate - words would make no difference.

  "There must be a supply of opium and of medical alcohol, ma'am."

  "Alcohol may be purchased, Mr Kramer. America is not short of distilleries, some of which produce a trustworthy spirit."

  "True, ma'am. Opium?"

  "Purchased in Canada, Mr Kramer. The Hudson's Bay Company sells furs to China and imports from India on the returning ships. Opium is already imported in some quantity 'for medical purposes' and more will be supplied easily. I have made preliminary arrangements by letter and will travel from here to close the deal in person. Though, thinking on the matter, sir, I would beg you to complete the arrangements for me - a man will be able to make a bargain at a better price, or so experience suggests!"

  Kramer was of a generation to find no difficulty in this - he had little respect for modern women who had forgotten their proper place.

  The bottle makers were of a different breed - the competition among them was high, there being good quality sands in the vicinity that had encouraged a number of separate manufacturers to build their cones first and seek a customer later.

  "Apothecary's bottles, Miss Parsons, in green, brown and blue, of one quart, one pint and half-pint capacity. Screw stopper in china ware. Twenty thousands of each size and colour per month for six months in the first instance. Ten, eight and seven cents, ma'am."

  "Eight, six and five, sir. I expect to double the quantities after the first six months, with the possibility of considering carboys of one and two gallons. Yourselves to have first refusal."

  They argued long and agreed that the blue pigment was more expensive by at least one half of a cent, and then debated at length the matter of crates and packing of the bottles for transport.

  Elizabeth was very happy to come to a contract that placed all of her demand with the one medium-sized manufacturer at a break-even price. He hoped to gain other customers who could provide him with a profit; she was content that he would go into insolvency, at which juncture she would buy him out cheaply.

  Printing of labels and advertising bills came next; flattery of the artistic genius of the designs she was offered went down well and shaved a few points off the prices. There were advantages as well to being a female in the world of business.

  A busy month and all was in hand.

  A manager appointed and a chief bookkeeper who was an assiduous church-goer and was therefore either wholly honest or utterly corrupt - she trusted her own ability to read accounts sufficiently to soon discover which. She could then make her way back to Washington and the business in the East, where Parsons and Burke was the importing agent for Mrs Boswell's products, a new source of some profit. She consoled herself that Chicago was a long way from New York and further still from Liverpool - it would be impractical for an English firm to serve the whole of the States.

  She opened Major Burke's letter, buried among the correspondence on her desk, Mr Larson having seen no reason to grant it prominence.

  She was not best pleased to find herself urged to return to England, there to enjoy the 'bliss of domesticity'. The gentleman had recently inherited and was now Major Sir Richard Burke, his fortunate wife therefore to become 'Lady Burke', and possessed of some wealth and a country house and small estate. It would undoubtedly be possible to purchase more land and round out the estate quite pleasantly. 'An enjoyable life in rural Dorsetshire, ideal to bring up a family.'

  A millionairess in her own right, or a hick in the English sticks?

  Which did she want more?

  She thought she loved Major Burke, but
she had hardly seen him for two years, so how was she truly to know? And if she travelled to England and there discovered that she had been mistaken in her affections, what then?

  She would, she supposed, like to have children - all women did, surely? A husband was useful for that purpose - people did talk so, otherwise. But she was not prepared to allow a husband control of her wealth, which presented a legal set of difficulties.

  She slept on the question and discovered that she was not prepared to become a brood mare in England. A husband would nonetheless be useful, on her own terms. A man to display in public, and to be father to any child she might wish to produce while interfering not at all in her business activities.

  She composed a polite letter to Sir Richard, commiserating with him on the loss of his father but regretting that the press of business made it quite impossible for her to return to England in the immediate future. For the while, she continued to hold his Power of Attorney and he would be glad to know that Parsons and Burke continued to flourish and was, indeed, expanding its activities. She was reinvesting some two-thirds of their profits in the firm, drawing only one-sixth in addition to her salary; she would send his one-sixth part to the Liverpool Cotton Bank at six-monthly intervals, while that continued to suit his needs. She wished him well in his life in England and remained his affectionate correspondent, Elizabeth Parsons.

  The matter of a husband thus remained - not as an urgency but to be pursued at her convenience. The pile of correspondence included invitations to various public functions, including receptions for any number of fashionable charitable committees; it might be as well to present herself for public inspection that way - there would undoubtedly be a plethora of variously disabled veterans to be seen and picked over. A colonel or brigadier, honourably wounded and of limited vigour, might well be useful to her, and she could provide him with a comfortable and to an extent active life in her company. If on occasion she took a lover, discovering a gentleman of interest to her, then she might find herself with child, and the onlookers might assume that there was still some life in the old dog yet...

  She read through the invites and picked out three public functions that would do her well.

  "Briggs, you wished to speak with me, I believe. I should have found time for you yesterday but found myself busy beyond expectation with Mr Peckham. I am so sorry!"

  "Gentlemen never apologise to the butler, Sir Richard! But thank you, sir. The matter is a simple one, Sir Richard, and it is that I have no great wish to retire to my little cottage just yet, sir. I am barely sixty years of age, sir, and believe I have some time left. I have no wife, and small desire to take one now, sir, and would not know what to do with myself! If it is your wish, Sir Richard, I would be pleased to continue as your butler, delaying the pension for some years."

  "I had not thought you would do so or I would have asked you, Briggs, but you are welcome indeed! The pension must not be delayed, I think, but be paid into your account, there to accumulate as an addition to the sum my father left you. You gave my father outstanding service, Briggs, and I would beg you to do the same for me. You might consider setting on an indoor man, Briggs, to be trained up in your image for the eventual day when old age overtakes you, as it must us all."

  "There is hardly work for another man, Sir Richard."

  "I must wed before too long, Briggs. There will be then, I think."

  "May I speak freely, Sir Richard?"

  "When did you do other, Briggs?"

  "The question of a wife, Sir Richard. A lady of the County would not be impossible in your circumstances - your commission and wealth outweighing your deceased father - and would lead to social acceptance from the bulk of the local families. Marriage to an unknown American lady of dubious extraction would do little to aid your social advancement, and that of your hopefully numerous offspring."

  "And the children must come first, you believe, Briggs?"

  The butler made no comment, knowing his master's intelligence and fundamental honesty with himself.

  "My father is to be buried tomorrow, of course, and the funeral notice has been widely published... Will there be members of the County present, Briggs?"

  "There must be some, Sir Richard. I have indeed made arrangements for the baked meats of the funeral feast on a generous scale. If any remain unconsumed then they will go to the Workhouse as is normal, sir. Some will in any case. If I might say so, Sir Richard, there is some degree of curiosity about you, sir - the sudden announcement of a commission, as a field officer, no less, and the unknown decoration which you have permission to wear, both are out of the ordinary. Additionally, the Carteret connection, which was the source of interesting scandal in its time, will have aroused the desire to meet you."

  "Should I take Painter with me as another fairground attraction, do you believe, Briggs?"

  "No, Sir Richard, one Wild Man is sufficient unto the day."

  The church was full, packed to the doors by the gentry, all of them obviously out to see the lions.

  Dick appeared in full dress, medal worn, and introduced himself to the vicar, Peckham having provided him with his name.

  "The details of the service were agreed with the lawyer, Mr Peckham, Sir Richard. He seemed to believe that there would be no objection on your part, but he was unable to specify your late, esteemed father's denomination, sir."

  "Some sort of Jew, I believe, Mr Wakerley, though what particular type I know not. It matters not, sir; buried he must be, for one can hardly leave him to lie above ground, and his local church is the logical place. I trust that Mr Peckham has dealt correctly with the fees?"

  "Oh! Most generously, Sir Richard, but one had not realised... but, of course, as you say, the poor gentleman must be interred and respect must be shown... Are the hymns to your satisfaction, Sir Richard?"

  "Probably, Mr Wakerley; has the organist been properly paid for?"

  "Yes, indeed, Sir Richard."

  "Then we must have our money's worth of music, sir. Shall we proceed?"

  The funeral progressed well and the corpse was tucked properly away in consecrated soil, despite the doubts of the reverend who was observed by the knowledgeable to modify some parts of his prayers and benedictions to allow for the anomalous state of the dead man's soul.

  Dick stood to attention and marched away from the grave to make the rounds of the assembled mourners, speaking to all who remained in the churchyard, the great bulk he noticed. A few left immediately after the coffin was lowered into the grave, having attended out of courtesy but wishing to make no contact with the new baronet, but the majority chose to introduce themselves.

  Mr Mortimer, heir to the Carteret title was the senior present, the only member of the aristocracy and he presented himself to Dick's attention first, as was only right.

  He was just a few years the elder, the son of the current lord's only brother, and greeted Dick as a contemporary and with a display of potential friendship. He offered the normal commiserations and asked whether Dick was to become a resident now - it was understood that he had spent years in America.

  "I shall be domiciled in England for the next few years at least, Mr Mortimer, and spending some part of my days at Burkes. It is my intention to settle myself in the world and perhaps to embrace a more conventional existence. I am, of course, in the service of the Queen, and may be ordered away, though I do not expect to be for some time."

  "The Medal of Honour is unknown to us in rural Dorset, Sir Richard. I am told it is the premier American decoration for valour?"

  "A man who is busy in the field, Mr Mortimer, will take little heed to what others may think, merely doing what is necessary at the time. Many a brave man has done far more but remained unseen, sir."

  Stood next to Mr Mortimer and in uniform of the Dorsets was a captain bearing the red of the Victoria Cross on his breast. He growled his agreement.

  "My name is Cornforth, Sir Richard. May I express my pride to meet you, sir? And my wholehearted agreement with y
our words!"

  Where Cornforth and Mortimer led, the bulk of the County followed and Dick was overwhelmed by twenty introductions of Knights and simple misters, but no other titled commoners or aristocrats. There were few of baronets in the area, it seemed, and but the one house of the nobility. He occupied a leading place, if he wished to take it.

  The funeral feast was suitably austere - much of roast beef but without any embellishment of fancy, made dishes, as convention demanded. The wines flowed in reasonable quantity and quality, which was the most important factor for the gentlemen present.

  "I have an interest in enlarging the Home Farm, Mr Mortimer - to provide paddocks where children might ride their ponies for a major reason."

  "There is unentailed land in the vicinity, Sir Richard, a deal of it belonging to small landholders. It might be possible to purchase, agriculture being so depressed these days. I shall speak to my man."

  Importantly, Mortimer would also let it be known that Sir Richard was seeking to settle down, to establish his nursery. A number of local families had unwed daughters, many of whom might like to become Lady Burke and hence a leader of society in the County.

  The first invitation to dinner arrived a month later - it would have been ineligible for Sir Richard to have accepted hospitality in the very first weeks of mourning his dear Papa. As it was he would not wish to attend dancing parties for at least six months, but ordinary congress with his equals in the County was only to be expected.

  "What is correct dress, Briggs?"

  Dick had written his acceptance and now needed to venture out for the first time. He had travelled aboard ship and was not wholly foreign to the demands of company, but he had no knowledge of the particular habits and manners of County society.

  "A dinner party, sir, so evening dress will be correct. You would be expected to wear dress uniform to a ball, certainly, but civilian wear is more appropriate to a smaller function. It would be ostentatious to wear a mourning band, sir, and very few will do so in evening dress, though it might be seen as more the thing in ordinary day wear. If I might venture to say so, Sir Richard, a degree of care in all that you say and do would be wise - you must establish yourself as an intelligent but not outrageous figure."